


Brighter Than All The Lights

by Hustling_Rube93



Series: Stay [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Firenze | Florence, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Marriage Proposal, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:48:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28598730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hustling_Rube93/pseuds/Hustling_Rube93
Summary: For the next week she thought about all the different ways she could ask the question while secretly preparing everything. How? Where? What to say? But all she knew for certain was that she would do it in Florence - the most romantic city in the world.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Series: Stay [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574908
Comments: 21
Kudos: 129





	Brighter Than All The Lights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eile24downtown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eile24downtown/gifts).



> I’ve been fiddling with this piece on and off for months, and finally managed to write something I was happy with after a few requests for a Bellamione proposal fic. 
> 
> This instalment directly follows part 7 of the Stay series - September. 
> 
> I’ve also made a nice little mood board to go with this fic, which you can find on my Tumblr if you’re interested - hustlingrube 
> 
> I own nothing. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy! 
> 
> This is for eile24downtown, who also has amazing fic which you should check out! Thank you for all those brainstorming sessions, gal! 
> 
> Rube <3

Bellatrix had thought long and hard about proposing to Hermione. 

She’d thought about it for months; years even, if she was being completely honest with herself. 

She loved the girl dearly of course, but the only thing that had prevented her from proposing sooner, was the fact that she was so much older than Hermione, and with that, the knowledge that she wouldn’t be around forever. She didn’t want Hermione to feel that she had to mourn her indefinitely because of a wedding ring on her finger. 

What changed her mind though, was knowing that, even when she was less than her best, even when she was suffering from a...crisis, that nothing she ever did seemed to be enough to push Hermione away.

And she’d come to that realisation in August. 

Because never in a million years, did Bellatrix ever think she’d be one of those women she’d read about in Witch Weekly: the women who couldn’t cope well with ageing. 

When she’d nearly reached the end point of her fifth decade and hadn’t had a sudden penchant for a conspicuous tattoo or the latest racing broom from _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ , she’d naively thought she’d avoided all the obvious pitfalls associated with a midlife crisis. 

But that was the nature of cliché, wasn’t it? 

Because the moment her nephew had received his Hogwarts acceptance letter on his eleventh birthday, the fear and anxiety that followed had turned her into a paranoid wreck. Of course, no one wanted to own up to a midlife crisis - the condition was redolent of too many bad jokes after all - but the sudden awareness of morality, the fear of failure, and the nagging, nightmarish sense that she’d somehow blinked and aged a decade, had hurtled her into what she could only describe as the bleakest four months of her life.

Four months she felt like she’d spent being dangled upside down by her ankles, watching all the detritus falling from her pockets. Some of the clutter was harmless ephemera, but other bits were jagged and rusted. Some were foul-smelling, some smeared with dried blood. 

But with them finally gone, she felt lighter.

She felt like she’d made peace with her crisis now, but sometimes she still felt so undeserving of the young witch she shared her life with. And yet, Hermione was relentless. 

Because when she pushed, Hermione pulled. 

When she wept, Hermione embraced. 

When she crumbled, Hermione repaired. 

And even though she still felt like a disaster of the worst kind, Hermione had the audacity to let her know - despite her age and her shortcomings, despite her meltdowns and her flaws - that she was beautiful, that she was special, and that she was loved. 

And that’s when Bellatrix had realised that even though she couldn’t - and wouldn’t - be with Hermione forever, that there was no good enough reason to hold back from loving Hermione, and letting herself be loved, as fiercely as she possibly could until her dying breath. 

And so Bellatrix decided that she was going to ask Hermione to marry her. 

Andromeda said it was about damn time, Alec thought they were already married because they bickered like an old married couple. Annoyingly, Lucius said some things should only be done by men, Narcissa slapped him and immediately started planning, and Harry just smiled, and gave his blessings.

And with that, she began to think where she might do it. 

Her first thought was Hampstead Heath. They often went for long walks there, and she knew that Hermione especially loved the pergola. Once upon a time the spot had been renowned for its lavish garden parties. Now, nature had crept in with its tangled vines and crumbling stone. Yet, the pergola remained utterly atmospheric in its moody beauty, and was probably the perfect fairy tale spot for a lifelong love declaration. 

Then she thought about proposing to Hermione in the old Victorian semi they shared. It was the house where they’d built their life together. The house where they curled up on the couch in the evenings with their legs tangled and books in their lap, and the house where Hermione loved to watch her twirl around the kitchen in her apron at dinner time, often kissing her to distraction. 

But neither option seemed right somehow.

No, she needed to do something big, something romantic and unique, something that would guarantee Hermione said yes (even though Bellatrix had no doubt that she would anyway). And she stressed over it for weeks, until Andromeda casually dropped Hermione’s upcoming 30th birthday into conversation one day during their morning run. 

And that’s when inspiration had struck. 

For the next week she thought about all the different ways she could ask the question while secretly preparing everything. How? Where? What to say? But all she knew for certain was that she would do it in Florence - the most romantic city in the world.

* * *

_Florence, Italy._

The room was stunning. 

She’d picked it specifically for its luxurious aesthetic because she knew it would appeal to Hermione. But standing in it now, she could safely say that the pictures Andromeda had shown her on the internet didn’t do it justice. 

Regal color motifs and antique furniture reminiscent of Florentine nobility gave the room incomparable grandeur, and artwork in gilded frames portraying the city’s creative history hung on the walls. The large windows allowed them lots of natural light, and the bed - oh, Merlin, the bed!

It was huge. 

“Oh, my — Bella, look at this place!” Hermione dropped her handbag where she stood and looked around the room in awe.

Bellatrix smiled. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

“I can’t believe you kept this a secret!”

“Neither can I,” Bellatrix admitted with a laugh. 

Hermione’s smile was blinding as she twirled around the room like a giddy child. Just being around her witch when she was so happy lit Bellatrix up inside, gave her a serenity she’d rarely felt without her, and her own smile grew as Hermione danced across the room to throw open the doors to their little balcony, leaning almost precariously over the railing to “ooh” and “ahh” at their spectacular view. 

They were staying at The St. Regis - a Muggle hotel Andromeda had recommended - in a suite that looked out over the Arno river and had a stunning view of the Ponte Vecchio. A week long stay would’ve cost someone less affluent an arm and a leg, but Bellatrix had plenty of Galleons to spare, and she was more than happy to spend them all on Hermione. 

“There’s a jacuzzi in the bathroom too,” Bellatrix told her. “Which we’re definitely going to be taking advantage of this week.”

Hermione spun away from the window as Bellatrix reached into her purse and pulled out their suitcases to transfigure them back to full size. “You’ve got this all planned out, haven’t you?”

“Of course,” Bellatrix grinned. Then she pointed to the king-size bed. “Oh, and just so you know, I’m going to shag you senseless every night in that huge bed.”

Hermione sashayed towards Bellatrix and draped her arms around her shoulders, pulled her flush against her chest. “Every night?” she softly purred. 

“Every night,” Bellatrix affirmed, leaning close. 

Hermione cocked a brow, and lightly teased, “Are you sure you’ll be up to that, love? I mean, you are a little bit older than me and—”

“Don’t start!” Bellatrix growled, and nipped at her bottom lip in playful warning. “Else I’ll take you straight home.”

Hermione scoffed a laugh. “Empty threats. Anyway, I thought you loved Florence? This holiday is as much for you as it is for me.”

Bellatrix shook her head, but she was smiling. “No, darling, this holiday is all about you. Anything you want to do, we’ll do it.”

Hermione gave her a gentle smile. “You’re too good to me, Bella,” she murmured, and brushed her lips against Bellatrix’s in a chaste kiss.

“You deserve nothing less for your birthday.”

“My birthday was yesterday.”

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable sometimes, did you know that?”

“I know,” Hermione beamed, full of cheek. 

“Are you happy?” Bellatrix asked softly, and slid her hands down Hermione’s sides as she waited for a reply with bated breath. 

“Very happy.”

“I wanted to do something special for you,” Bellatrix murmured, suddenly a little sheepish. “After everything I’ve put you through this year I—“

“Shh. Bella, don’t,” Hermione whispered, pressing gentle fingers against Bellatrix’s lips. “We’ve discussed this. I - I just want to forget about the whole thing.”

“I know,” Bellatrix sighed, dropping her gaze, then quickly steered the conversation back into safer waters. “I know you’ve always wanted to visit Italy, and I thought it would be nice to do something different to celebrate your 30th.”

“You really are just perfect,” Hermione beamed, cupping Bellatrix’s face between her hands, stroked her thumbs over sharp cheekbones. 

“I’m glad you think so,” Bellatrix said against her lips. 

“I know so,” Hermione murmured, then she gestured to their suitcases. “Shall we unpack, then? It’s too late to go exploring.”

Hermione was right. The only available Portkey from London to Florence that day had been a battered old beer can that had been scheduled to leave the Portkey Office in Diagon at exactly 10.30 p.m. Taking into account the hours time difference, by the time they’d walked the short distance from the secluded drop off point and checked into the hotel, it was nearly midnight. 

Her brother-in-law, Alec, had jokingly suggested that she should buy a passport and get an early morning flight to Italy, so they wouldn’t waste their first day. But even though Bellatrix had become a lot more tolerant of ‘silly Muggle things’ in recent years, she absolutely drew the line at boarding an aeroplane and spending a few hours in a confined space several thousand feet in the air. 

“We’ll unpack tomorrow,” Bellatrix told her, and crossed to the table where the bottle of champagne she’d requested for their arrival was chilling in an ice bucket. “Let’s sit outside for bit.”

Hermione grabbed two glasses, and they ventured outside to sit on their little terraced balcony. The sun had set hours ago but it was still fairly warm. Despite the hour, the hustle and bustle below never came to a halt. The city buzzed with the soft hum of people on the street below, but the sound was almost soothing, and seemed to blend into the background. 

Lights glittered everywhere, like stars dropping to the earth, colouring everything in a beautiful sepia hue. It was too dark to make out individual landmarks, but the nearby Ponte Vecchio lit up the night, casting ripples of gold into the river. 

Hermione’s mouth was agape with wonder, breathing in the air of the night that they would share together, her honey brown eyes reflecting every twinkling light. 

Bellatrix couldn’t look away. 

In that moment, Hermione Granger was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. 

She twisted the stem of her glass between her fingers, barely listening as Hermione waxed lyrical about the various things she’d like to see and do. But all Bellatrix could really focus on was the blinding smile on her witch’s face. 

“Bella?” Hermione asked softly. Bellatrix came back to herself quickly, noticed that Hermione was no longer gazing out across the city. “Are you even listening to me?”

Bellatrix could only shake her head, laughing softly at the little pout on Hermione’s face. 

“I asked what you wanted to do tomorrow. I thought we could start with the Duomo?” She pointed in the famous cathedrals general direction. “Did you know it has the largest masonry dome in the world?”

Bellatrix sipped her champagne. “I did, and if you don’t mind 463 steps and some tight spaces, then we can make it our first stop tomorrow.”

Hermione smiled a little. “I forgot this isn’t your first trip to Florence. Is the view from the top as beautiful as they say?”

“Yes, it’s rather pretty,” Bellatrix hummed. “But I think I have the prettiest view right here.”

The view in question blushed a beautiful shade of pink.

* * *

_A few days later._

Florence was stunning.

It was easy to see why Bellatrix loved it so much. 

But Merlin, was it hot. Even the white silk umbrella shading their table did little to shield them from the sun’s hottest rays. 

“I didn’t think it would be this warm in September,” Hermione puffed, muttering a discreet, non-verbal cooling charm under the table. “Do you think we could...Bella? Bella!”

Bellatrix jerked to look at her. “What’s that, love?”

Hermione’s eyebrows drew together in mild annoyance. “You were daydreaming again.”

“Was I?”

Her witch had been daydreaming a lot over the past few days. She knew this wasn’t Bellatrix’s first visit to Florence, and she’d chalked her witch’s inattentiveness down to the fact that she was probably just reminiscing about her previous visits with her hus— 

Hermione cleared her throat, and quickly disregarded that line of thinking. “I said, I didn’t expect it to be this warm.”

“Oh.” Bellatrix snorted, glancing at her over the top of her sunglasses. “Blame the Muggles and their bloody global warming, love.”

Hermione frowned slightly, but didn’t say anything else. Despite all of Bellatrix’s little flights of fancy, she’d been having such a lovely time, and didn’t want to spoil their holiday by worrying about old insecurities. 

For the last three days they’d spent their mornings drinking cappuccino’s, eating buttery pastries, and exploring the city. In the afternoons, they visited galleries and museums to get out of the stifling heat. And at night, they took moonlight strolls through the city, ate the very best Florentine food, and drank the night away at expensive wine bars.

Today was the hottest day they’d had so far. Hermione had been loathe to sit outside, but Bellatrix had insisted, claiming the view was one of the best in the city.

She wasn’t wrong.

They were sitting on the balcony bar at _La Galleria degli Uffizi_ \- the Uffizi Gallery - drinking iced lattes and sharing a huge bowl of gelato. Hermione was thankful for the rest, they’d traipsed through the gallery for nearly three hours, and her feet were killing her. 

Bellatrix had gushed over Botticelli’s _The Birth of Venus_ for nearly twenty minutes. Honestly, it had been hard not to marvel at the beauty of the piece. Everything from Botticelli’s strong yet subtle strokes to his exquisite depiction of the female form had held her captive while Bellatrix gave her a rundown of its history.

”What do you think, love?” Hermione asked playfully, spooning a mouthful of delicious ice cream into her mouth. “About Venus, I mean. Maiden or whore?” 

Bellatrix pushed her sunglasses up onto her head, looking contemplative for a moment. She sipped her coffee, before slowly saying, “Both.” 

“Both?” Hermione repeated, intrigued. 

Bellatrix nodded. “Did you notice how pale her skin was? She’s almost sculpture-like in appearance. And the way her eyes were cast down, the way she was attempting to hide her modesty, she looks every inch the chaste little virgin.” Then Bellatrix grinned, “And yet, she exudes sexuality. She’s the ultimate representation of what men desire. I mean, it was a bloke who bloody painted her, you can hardly expect anything less. But she’s just a woman - a goddess, of course - but still, just a woman.”

Hermione couldn’t help but smile. Bellatrix’s wealth of knowledge on the various buildings and exhibitions they’d seen over the last few days was nothing short of impressive. The way her eyes lit up while she spoke about something that truly interested her was so beautiful to see, and she was more than happy to follow Bellatrix around and listen to her excited little spiels. 

“There you go again,” Hermione teased, giving her a fond smile. 

Bellatrix huffed, and flicked her sunglasses back down. “Oh, shut up and eat your bloody ice cream.”

“You sound just like a tour guide.”

“I said—“

“It’s a bit of a turn on, actually.” Hermione gave Bellatrix a wicked grin, and the older witch’s mouth snapped closed. “And you know what else is a turn on?”

“No. But I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

Hermione slid her hand over Bellatrix’s bare knee under the table, and said in a hushed tone,“You. In that dress.”

“What, this old thing?” Bellatrix tugged casually at the wide strap on the red and white striped summer dress she was wearing. 

It wasn’t an old thing at all. In fact, Hermione hadn’t seen it before in her life. Bellatrix looked quite delectable in it, actually. 

“You don’t wear dresses as much as you used to,” Hermione went on, biting her lip. She slid her hand higher, squeezing Bellatrix’s thigh before her hand was slapped away. 

“Filthy girl,” Bellatrix hissed in a half-hearted warning, and hid her smirk behind a sip of coffee. Her tongue darted out to swipe at the froth that gathered on her top lip. 

Hermione felt her stomach flip-flop. “I can’t help it.”

“You really are an insatiable little thing, aren’t you?” Bellatrix murmured knowingly, deliberately licking her lip again. “Was last night not enough for you?”

“I thought you said you were going to shag me every night?” 

“So I did.”

Thus far, Bellatrix had been true to her word, and the memory of them sweaty and spent in their huge bed made heat pool in Hermione’s belly. 

Oh, she was so looking forwards to getting Bellatrix all to herself again tonight.

* * *

_That evening._

Hermione finally snapped at dinner that night. 

Bellatrix, as always, seemed none the wiser as to why Hermione was pushing her dinner around her plate like it was going to jump off the plate and bite her. 

Bellatrix gestured to Hermione’s plate with her fork. “Is it too bloody? Florentine steak is better eaten a little rare, but we can send it back if you—“

“No. No, it’s lovely,” Hermione said, and brought a bite of steak to her lips in an effort to please her girlfriend. But apparently that wasn’t enough, because Bellatrix started rhyming off other things she’d seen on the menu that she might’ve liked instead. “It’s not about the fucking steak, Bella!”

And she made sure Bellatrix knew something was wrong then.

“Then what’s wrong?” Bellatrix lowered her knife and fork, dark brows drawn together in a frown that was more than a little pissed off. “I thought we were having a nice dinner?”

“It’s not - I mean, we are, but—“

“But what?” Bellatrix growled lowly, conscious of the other diners around them. “What is it I’ve done to upset you?” 

“You haven’t done anything, Bella,” Hermione told her. “I mean, not really. It’s just...”

Bellatrix took an angry sip of wine, and demanded, “Just what?”

“You’ve been in a world of your own this entire holiday.”

“I have not—“ Bellatrix started to say. 

“You have,” Hermione shot back through gritted teeth. “You know you have. What’re you - who’re you thinking about?”

Bellatrix straightened her back, set her jaw. “Seriously?”

“Are you thinking about...about... _him_?” Hermione spat the last word with a venom she didn’t quite expect from herself, and immediately regretted it when she noticed the subtle flash of hurt in the dark witch’s eyes. 

“ _Him_? You mean my husband?” 

“Bella, I—“

“For fuck sake, Hermione!” Bellatrix hissed, leaning over the table. There was anger lacing her tone now, and Hermione wished she hadn’t opened her fucking mouth. Wished she hadn’t jumped the gun and let jealousy get the better of her. “We’ve been over this, we’ve—“

But whatever else Bellatrix was going to say was interrupted by the sudden appearance of the waiter. 

“Mi scusi, Signora,” he said, holding up the bottle of wine clutched in his hands. “Più vino?”

Bellatrix plastered on a smile, but even to Hermione it looked strained. “No grazie, Signor,” she said in her flawless Italian. “Possiamo avere il conto, per favore?”

“Sì, certo, Signora,” he smiled. “Un momento, per favore.”

When he hurried away, Bellatrix slapped some money on the table, and stood. 

“Where’re you going? Aren’t you going to finish your dinner?”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” Bellatrix said, dryer than dry. “Wait for the bill, would you? I’m going outside for a smoke.”

“Bella—“ she tried again. 

But the dark witch was already gone. 

Suffice to say, they didn’t shag that night.

* * *

_The next morning._

They were good. 

They were fine. 

They hadn’t really spoken, but they were fine. 

She hoped.

In an attempt to break the ice, Bellatrix thought it would be a nice idea to share the sunrise together, and she couldn’t think of a better place to do that than the _Piazzale Michelangelo_. She’d purposely risen before the dawn that morning and dragged a grumbling, half-comatose Hermione through the streets to the large elevated piazza south of the Arno. 

It was probably Bellatrix’s favourite spot to watch the sunrise in Florence - once you’d braved the steep, winding hill to get to the summit! But it was the perfect place to put her plan into action. 

She just hoped Hermione was in a better mood. 

“Is there a reason you’ve dragged me up here this early?” Hermione mumbled in-between sips from her water bottle. 

“You’ll see,” Bellatrix replied vaguely. 

Despite her scowl, Hermione looked beautiful. Yet, Bellatrix knew she couldn’t just take her in her arms and kiss her and take out the ring, because she knew they had to talk about what had happened last night first. 

When Hermione had been silent for too long, Bellatrix said, “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Haven’t had my coffee yet,” Hermione grumbled, as if that was a valid excuse for having a face like thunder. 

“Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Hermione,” Bellatrix said, firmer this time. “What’s going on? I thought we were having a good time? I am, at least.”

“So am I,” Hermione snapped. 

“Could’ve fooled me, love.” Bellatrix said evenly. “Are you annoyed because I used to come here with—”

“No!” 

Bellatrix pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation. “I didn’t think it would’ve been that big of a deal to you,” she sighed. 

Hermione scowled. “I never said it was.”

“Yet you’re the one who brought him up in conversation last night,” Bellatrix pointed out. “Is that why you’re pissy?”

“No, Bella!” Hermione shot back. “I’m - I’m pissy because - because...”

Bellatrix promoted, “Because...” 

“Well, you’ve obviously been thinking about him!”

Bellatrix felt like she’d been slapped. “Merlin’s dick, Hermione! Why the bloody hell would you—“

“Because - because I think about us in five, ten years time, Bella! Because I think about our future together, and you obviously _don’t_.” Hermione’s voice was low, full of hurt and anger, and a raging jealousy she never would’ve expected from her. Bellatrix was speechless. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“Honestly, Hermione,” Bellatrix said slowly. “I don’t know what there is to say.”

“See, you’re not even denying it.”

“Because there’s nothing to deny!” Bellatrix bristled. She was losing her patience now, but she tried hard to keep her temper in check. 

“Could’ve fooled me, love,” Hermione scoffed, throwing Bellatrix’s words back at her. 

“This is ridiculous,” Bellatrix murmured, shaking her head. “I brought you here because I wanted to do something nice for you. Because I love you. Not because I wanted to relive memories of the time I spent here with Rod.”

At the mention of her fucking dead husband’s name, Hermione’s face twisted into a sour expression. Bellatrix laughed, she couldn’t help it. 

“Green isn’t your colour, darling. Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

“Don’t be clever,” Hermione snapped. 

“I love you, Hermione. You know I do. A few months ago I drove myself half mad thinking you were going to leave me because I’d put on a bit of weight.”

“Yet you’ve never wondered if - if maybe I’d like to get married?”

“Just a tick, I’ll get my crystal ball out.” Bellatrix scoffed. The irony of the situation she found herself in wasn’t lost on her. “That way I’ll know exactly what you want.”

“Piss off.”

“Hermione,” Bellatrix sighed. “We share a home together. We share a life. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

And it should. It should, but Hermione was too worked up to calm down, and Bellatrix knew she was on the verge of losing control of the situation. 

“Listen, ‘Mione,” Bellatrix sighed. “We’ve been together for eleven years. You’re the only one for me. What do I need to do to convince you that I - would it make you happy if I asked you to marry me?”

It had to be the most unromantic accidental proposal in the world. 

Her hands shook a little. The weight of the little box she’d carried around with her all week suddenly felt like a boulder in her pocket. And, oh, bloody hell, this wasn’t how she’d planned it at all. 

Hermione blinked. “Did you just...”

“No!” Bellatrix snapped. “I just meant—“ This was a nightmare. A fucking nightmare. She wished she hadn’t even brought up the argument in the first place and stuck to the original plan. “I take it back...”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. “You take back proposing to me during an argument?”

“No!” Bellatrix nearly shouted. Then quieter, she murmured, “No. I take - I take back...it wasn’t my intention to make you feel like...”

“Whatever.”

“Hermione,” Bellatrix pleaded. She waited a few seconds, but the tears glistening in her witch’s eyes didn’t give her much hope. With a sigh, Bellatrix turned towards the Florence skyline. 

They’d missed the sunrise.

* * *

_The next day._

The whole ordeal had escalated to the point where they were barely speaking. 

Today they’d ventured to _Galleria dell’Accademia_ \- the home of Michelangelo's most famous work of art. And although there were more historic pieces in the _Galleria dell’Accademia_ than you’d find in most entire cities, this museum had been made specifically to show off David.

It was hard not to be amazed by the man that 26-year-old Michelangelo had carved out of a single abandoned block of marble 500 years ago. Hermione didn’t think any other piece of artwork she’d seen over the last few days - whether modern or ancient, Greek or Latin - could compare to David in any respect; with such just proportion, beauty and excellence did Michelangelo finish it. There was something utterly impressive about this piece of history, and everything about it, from David’s piercing eyes right down to the veins in his hands, was absolutely gorgeous. 

But unlike their trip to Uffizi, Bellatrix was deathly silent, speaking only when spoken to, and even then she barely said anything at all. 

In Hermione’s book, it was practically just one big, “Fuck you.”

She felt miserable, so miserable, and she just wanted Bellatrix to want her forever, but she feared that she may have pushed the dark witch away with her mini-meltdown yesterday. And she hated herself for it. 

Hermione huffed all through the museum, until the little cheap mobile phone she’d purchased from Tesco the day before their trip began to chirp in her bag. She flipped it open and saw Andromeda’s name on the read out, and slunk away into a quiet corner to take the call. 

“Sooooo, how’s the holiday?” Andromeda asked, sounding strangely giddy.

“It’s good,” Hermione answered, full of false cheer. 

Andromeda had obviously been expecting a different response, and immediately groaned, “Merlin, what’s she done?”

Hermione feigned ignorance. “Who?”

“My bloody sister, of course!” 

Hermione sighed. “It wasn’t her fault,” she told Andromeda quietly. “Not really. But she sort of...accidentally proposed and—“

“How can someone accidentally propose!” 

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing since yesterday,” Hermione muttered. “But we’re not really speaking.”

Andromeda scoffed. “Was the proposal that bad?” 

“No, I mean, yes, I mean...I may have made some accusations about - about Rodolphus.”

“What?” Andromeda was practically screeching by this point, and Hermione had to hold the phone away from her ear. “What’s Rod got to do with anything?”

“Oh, Andy,” Hermione sniffed. “I basically accused her of not taking our relationship seriously enough.” 

“You’ve been together over a decade.”

“I know, I know. I just...let jealousy get the better of me, I suppose.”

“Why in Merlin’s name would you be jealous of Rod?” Andromeda challenged, and oh, did she sound pissed. “The man’s six feet under, for crying out loud!”

She loved Andromeda like a sister, she was funny and compassionate and looked after everyone, but her love and support for Bellatrix terrified her sometimes. She always had her family’s best interest at heart, but she was Bellatrix’s sister, and if there were sides to be taken, without a doubt she’d be on Bellatrix’s. 

She hoped her sister-in-law didn’t judge her too harshly. 

“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted with a sigh. “It’s just...Bella probably has so many memories being here with her husband and—“

She was cut off by a rough bark of laughter. 

“What’s so funny?” Hermione hissed, eyes darting to where Bellatrix was currently standing before David with her chin resting on her hand, and a small, crooked smile on her face. 

“Oh, love,” Andromeda cackled. “Rodolphus was an uncultured swine. He wasn’t interested in all that artsy stuff. I think the only memory Bella will have of him in Florence is the time they were escorted out of a museum for pissing themselves laughing at David’s tiny todger.”

Despite herself, Hermione couldn’t help but smile at that. “Funny you should say that, because we’re visiting David right now.”

Andromeda hooted with more laugher. 

“You know, Andy, small penises were actually more prized in Ancient Greece,” Hermione told her. “The cultural values about male beauty were completely different—“

“Hermione,” Andromeda giggled. “Stop. I love that you’re soaking up the culture but, please, kiss and make up with Bella, would you?”

Hermione nodded, even though she knew Andromeda couldn’t see her. “I will, Andy. I’ve been an idiot.”

“You’re both idiots.”

“I’ll settle for that.”

“You don’t ever have to be jealous, Hermione,” Andromeda said, her voice much softer. “I’ve never seen her with anyone the way she is with you.”

“You haven’t?”

“Why do you sound so shocked by that?” Andromeda asked, amused. “Bella loves the bones of you. She started bloody jogging because she thought you were going to leave her.”

Guilt bloomed in her chest. She hadn’t really spoken about Bellatrix’s crisis with Andromeda. The mere though if it made her want to burst into tears. Bellatrix’s mental health had always been fragile, so it was no surprise that she got a little neurotic at times. But knowing that her witch had gotten so lost inside her own head this year had been hard for Hermione. 

“I’ll fix it, Andy.”

“I know you will. You’re a good girl, Hermione. Bella’s lucky to have you.”

“We’re lucky to have each other,” Hermione whispered. 

When Andromeda hung up, Hermione sidled up to Bellatrix. The dark witch barely glanced at her, before looking away again. 

“That was Andy,” Hermione murmured. 

For the briefest moment, she thought Bellatrix was going to give her the silent treatment, then she softly asked, “What did she want?”

“She just asked if we were having a nice time.”

Bellatrix’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. “And what did you say?”

“I said we were having a ball.”

“Oh. Good.”

Then Hermione nudged Bellatrix playfully in the ribs, nodded at David. “Speaking of balls, what’s with David’s tiny acorn?”

Bellatrix’s screech of raucous laughter was music to her ears.

* * *

_The following night._

Running her finger around the edge of her wine glass, Hermione stared at her beautiful girlfriend. 

The dark haired witch was talking animatedly in fluent Italian to the waiter. Something about not having enough wine options on the menu or what not. Honestly, Hermione couldn’t care less about what Bellatrix was fussing about. She was just so glad that their romantic getaway was finally back on track. 

They were sitting on a candlelit terrace overlooking the Arno in what had to be the poshest restaurant Hermione had ever been in. It was lovely, really lovely. But nothing was lovelier in her eyes this night than Bellatrix. 

After their laughing fit in front of David, they’d forgone another museum for some retail therapy. They spent the afternoon at _La Rinascente_ department store, browsing six floors of designs by luxury labels, before stopping on the roof terrace for a post-shop spritz. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Bellatrix so excited to get her hands on Muggle couture before.

Bellatrix had chosen to wear one of her new purchases tonight. And even though Hermione didn’t care much for designer labels, she couldn’t deny that Bellatrix looked damn good in Valentino. 

Her witch’s hair was pinned elegantly, diamonds dangled from her ears, and she was wearing a slinky black cocktail dress with a plunging neckline that showed off the pale swell of her breast. Hermione’s heart hadn’t stopped fluttering all night. 

When the waiter, harassed and perhaps a little annoyed, finally left, Bellatrix turned to her with a sultry smile. 

“See something you like?” she practically purred. 

“Just you.”

“I thought so. You’re having dirty thoughts right now.”

It wasn’t a question. 

Hermione felt her face grow warm, and took a sip of wine. Because of course she was having dirty thoughts, and if it wasn’t for the fact that they were starving and had already ordered, then she would’ve dragged Bellatrix back to their hotel, and fucked her against the nearest wall. But then, that hadn’t stopped them before, so...

“So naughty,” Bellatrix murmured, looking out over the river with an expression that was much too innocent. 

But just when Hermione was about to ask what she was up to, she felt Bellatrix’s heelless foot slide up the inside of her calf. 

“Bella,” she warned, when the dark witch’s foot wandered higher than was probably considered decent in such a public setting. Nonetheless, her recklessness was an endearing quality, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Behave.”

Bellatrix pouted playfully, but dropped her foot when the waiter appeared with their food. 

They had a nice dinner, better than the one they’d shared a few days ago anyway. She loved the way Bellatrix gestured with her fork or her wine glass as she talked. And the way she stabbed a bite of her chicken from her plate without asking if she minded. 

She wanted to apologise for her behaviour over the last few days, for ruining what should’ve been a relaxing week of sightseeing and sex. Bellatrix had obviously went to a lot of effort to plan something special for her birthday, but there were still the niggling feeling that bringing the argument up again would start another one, so she held fire for the time being, adamant to enjoy their last full night in Florence.

When their bellies were full, Bellatrix suggested a slow walk along the river to clear their heads after the two bottles of wine they’d consumed with dinner. Hermione readily agreed, eager to sober up a little before hopefully getting her hands on Bellatrix when they returned to the hotel. 

It was still warm, but the small rain shower they’d had earlier in the afternoon had cut through some of the humidity. Florence glowed around them. They were so close to the Ponte Vecchio and all its golden lights, it was a beautiful sight. 

Hand in hand, they walked, content to bask in the sound of music and laughter coming from the various hotels and restaurants along the river. They didn’t speak, but Hermione was happy to experience the city in silence for a while. 

She couldn’t help but notice that Bellatrix kept glancing sideways at her though, like she wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure how. Hermione was so used to Bellatrix just saying whatever she wanted, but she felt like tonight the dark witch needed a bit of a nudge. So she cleared her throat, and was about to ask what was on her mind, but Bellatrix beat her to the punch.

“I have something to say,” she said, her words coming out in a rush.

“Um...ok.” Hermione turned and looked at Bellatrix head on, and was a little surprised to see the telltale shine of tears in her eyes. Suddenly anxious, she stopped walking, and touched Bellatrix’s arm to stop her too. “What’s wrong, Bella?”

Bellatrix was silent, looking embarrassed, maybe even a little scared. It was a look she hadn’t seen since the night she’d confronted her about her odd behaviour, and they’d finally gotten to the bottom of her midlife crisis. 

“I have something to say,” the dark witch repeated. 

“I’m listening,” Hermione said patiently. But Bellatrix looked so tense and fidgety by this point that Hermione was sure she was going to bolt. 

Bellatrix was quick to reassure her though. “It’s nothing bad,” she promised, taking Hermione’s hands in hers. “Hermione, I really love you.”

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. She said it was nothing bad. So why did it sound bad? Why did it sound like Bellatrix was about to break up with her? Isn’t this how breakups usually went? She was waiting for a but. 

_Hermione, I really love you but_...

Is that why Bellatrix brought her to Italy? To soften the blow before bloody dumping her?

“I - I really love you too, Bella,” she choked. “I love you more than anything. You know that, right?”

“I know, darling,” Bellatrix murmured, and reached up to gently cup her face in her hands. Hermione closed her eyes, leaned into her witch’s touch. “You’re so wonderful, Hermione. You deserve the world.”

Hermione’s eyes snapped open again. “Bella—“

“Let me finish. Please.” Hermione’s lip trembled, but she nodded. “You’re always putting me first. Even when I’m a mess, even when I sometimes don’t treat you as well as I should.”

“Bella, please...”

Hermione hated that Bellatrix always doubted herself like this. That no matter what she said to her, no matter how many times she said she loved her, that there was a part of Bellatrix that forever felt like she wasn’t good enough. 

“Shh, I’m almost done,” Bellatrix whispered. “We’ve been together a long time, and I’ve always just been happy living every day with you. And I’ve never really thought beyond that. But I’ve come to realise we’ve never actually discussed whether or not you’d want to get married.”

Hermione swallowed. “What’re you saying?” 

Bellatrix dropped her hands, reached into her coat pocket. “Hermione, I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

Hermione felt her eyes go wide as Bellatrix held up the little black box she’d had hidden in her coat, and she audibly sucked in a breath as she gazed down at the ring. 

The band was gold, the centre stone an asscher cut ruby. It was simple and elegant, and absolutely gorgeous.

“It was my grandmother’s,” Bellatrix explained, her voice going that rough way it usually did when she was getting emotional. Carefully, she plucked the ring out of the box, grasped Hermione’s fingers in hers. “I used to play dress up with her jewellery when I was a little girl, and this ring was always my favourite. When she passed, she left it to me.”

“Oh, Bella,” Hermione whispered. “It’s - it’s beautiful.”

Bellatrix took a shuddering breath, and carefully slid the ring over Hermione’s knuckle. 

“You make me feel brave, Hermione. When we first met I felt very lost, but you found me and showed me something beautiful.” Bellatrix looked away, but Hermione gently turned her face back towards her. “I don’t want you to ever feel that you’re not enough for me, and I’m sorry if I’ve made you doubt yourself this week. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been when I’m with you.”

Her eyes were beginning to swim, and she murmured, “Oh, Belle...”

“Hermione Jean Granger,” the dark witch said, and Hermione could hear her voice wobble a bit. “You’re the strongest, smartest, most beautiful women I’ve ever known, and I love you. I love you and I want you. And I know my first attempt at this went tits up, but I couldn’t give two shits as long as you want me too.”

Hermione choked a wet laugh. Only Bellatrix could use tits and shit in a sentence when proposing marriage. But she wouldn’t have her dark beauty any other way. 

“I’d get down on one knee but I don’t know if I’d get back up,” Bellatrix admitted, laughing softly. “But if you’ll have me, I’d really like you to marry me.”

Hermione half-laughed, half-sobbed. “Of course I’ll marry you. Yes! A thousand times, yes!”

Bellatrix looked at her and smiled; a smile that made her eyes crinkle and her whole face light up. Then she crooked her finger beneath Hermione’s chin, gently drawing her closer. But Hermione couldn’t wait, and she threw herself at Bellatrix, nearly knocking them back against the railing, and kissed her soundly on the lips. But before they could get too lost in each other, a barrage of shouts and wolf-whistles from across the street met their ears, and they quickly pulled away again.

Hermione rested her forehead against Bellatrix’s, breathless and lingering between heartbeats. She’d almost forgotten that the outside world existed. 

“It seems we have a bit of an audience, dove,” Bellatrix giggled. “If you don’t like the ring I can get you another one. But I thought the colour would appeal to your ridiculous Gryffindor sensibilities.”

“No! I love it,” Hermione insisted. “I love it, and I love you.”

“Then maybe we should go back to our room so you can show me how much.”

Hermione’s smile shone brighter than all the lights in Florence.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, would like to thank Google Translate for my Italian. Hopefully it’s on point :3 XD


End file.
